


He doesn't even have a TARDIS

by Morgz1221



Series: He Doesn't Even Have a TARDIS [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-07 21:11:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgz1221/pseuds/Morgz1221
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has a... medical condition. Which is how he meets the love of his life.<br/>Time Traveler's Wife AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ch. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on this site. Unbeta'd.

Derek: age 39  
Stiles: age 16

Derek sighs, sitting down at his computer desk and leaning back. He had just got home from the gym; it had been a stressful day. It's quiet in the house, mostly. A relief from the bustle of the city. He sits up, sighing again and opens his mouth to ask what's for dinner when he feels the pressure in his head. The pressure that signals its coming. There isn't anything to do about it, so he just lets it happen. The pulling in his gut, his vision blurs, he cant breathe, and then he lands on his hands and knees, butt-naked on a blanket of crunchy, fall leaves. 

He stands up, brushing his hands off, and looking around. Its chilly, not too cold yet, so probably September. The skeleton of a burnt house looms about fifty yards to his left. He shivers and shoves his hands under his armpits, walking around the house, and peeking around to the front porch, careful to be quiet.  
Sitting on the porch, leaning against the railing, is a teenage boy with a pencil between his lips and a textbook in his lap. His brow is scrunched, and Derek can tell he's been thinking hard. He smiles and walks around to the steps, running up and past the boy, who hardly glances up at him, although Derek notices the grin that trips across his lips. 

Reaching the cardboard box containing old, random articles of clothing, Derek grabs himself a pair of jeans, foregoing the boxers, and a black t-shirt, slipping a worn leather jacket overtop. He sighs and sits down across from the boy, who looks up at him with smiling eyes. 

"October second, twenty twelve." The kid tells him. Derek squints for a second. That meant he's sixteen. Stiles is sixteen. Its habit to sit in silence for a few seconds so Derek can get his mental timeline in order. Today, Derek is thirty-nine. This isn't the oldest Stiles has seen him, but pretty close. 

You see, there's something wrong with Derek. He has this gene. And this malformation in his DNA causes him to time travel. Randomly, and against his will, no matter the circumstances. Derek can't count all the times he'd been doing something perfectly normal, like buying milk or pumping gas, and suddenly he's gone, leaving a pile of clothes, and anyone watching quite bewildered. He'd reappear in another time, another place, naked as the day he was born. Most of the time, Derek traveled back, but every once in a while he'd go forward. Many of his visits he ended up here, in Beacon Hills, California, accompanied by this kid, sitting on the porch of a dead house, in borrowed clothes.

"So, what's happening in your when?" Stiles asks, a usual question. Derek shrugs. "Stuff." He says, a usual answer. He doesn't like to give the future away. Stiles knows that, but he never fails to ask. 

"I met you last week." Stiles says with a smile. Derek raises an eyebrow. Yep. The end of September 2012. When Derek finally meets Stiles. In real time. Stiles had known Derek for years in real time; since he was eight. But Derek didn't meet Stiles until he was twenty-four. Derek rubs his temples. His life is stressful and confusing.  
Yesterday, in Derek's real time, he had ended up in some field probably in the Midwest, who knows when. The day before, Derek had witnessed his parents on a date when they were maybe nineteen. 

"How did that go?" He asks, though he knows. He knows oh-so-well. It's one of his most prominent memories. 

"You freaked out. You wouldn't even take my coffee on the house." Stiles says, trying to look annoyed, but there's a smile in the corners of his mouth. 

Derek snorts. It isn't his fault he had freaked; if some sixteen year old kid you'd never met before had spazzed out on you, treating you like some sort of pop star, you'd freak too. 

"How's Scott?" Derek asks. Derek knows that this year, Stiles' sophomore year, a new girl moves to town, and Scott falls in love. He wanted to ask anyway. 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Retarded. He can hardly keep his pants on at any time. He's almost as bad as you." Stiles says beginning to doodle on his paper. Derek snorts again.  
"Allison?" Derek asks. He hasn't seen Stiles yet this school year, so Stiles looks up, slightly surprised, but the look is soon gone, Stiles realizing that Derek knows all about what's going on in this now. 

"Yeah." He sighs. "Stupid Allison..." His pencil drops and he leans his head back, resting on the beam behind him.

Derek swallows, his eyes trailing over the flesh of Stiles' neck, and to his collarbone, peeking out of his t-shirt. Derek almost wished he had put on boxers, so that there would be less friction at this moment. He shifts his hips. Stiles is sixteen. Sixteen. He has to remind himself. Today is not the day. Derek knows when the day is. His face flushes and he looks away, digging dirt from underneath a nail.

"Lydia and I are doing a project this weekend." Stiles says, not looking directly at Derek. Stiles always seems embarrassed, maybe even ashamed, when he talks about Lydia. Stiles has been in love with her since he was in the third grade. Derek doesn't mind. He's just amused because he knows what Stiles doesn't. 

"Oh yeah?" He smirks. "Knowing Lydia that project will be perfect. How much of it are you actually doing?" Derek Teases. He sees Stiles roll his eyes and open his mouth, probably to come back with something witty and sarcastic. 

He doesn't get to hear Stiles' reply, though, because he's gone.

He opens his eyes to a dark alleyway that he recognizes as the one where the old homeless man stays, three blocks south and two blocks west of the cable car station that would take Derek home. 

 

\--

 

Stiles slams his fist against his textbook. His eyes have that pressure behind them that signals tears. All he wanted was to talk to his best friend. To spend time with Derek. He sniffed, steeling himself, and vowed to go find present-day Derek. The Derek he met in the coffee shop. The one he could spend more than just a few minutes with when it was convenient for the universe.


	2. Ch. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets Derek for the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I'm really bad at updating because i'm afraid my work isn't good enough and i lose motivation :,((

Derek: age 28  
Stiles: age 8

Stiles sniffles, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He's been wandering around the preserve for about an hour now. He's running away. His dad doesn't love him anymore. His mom is dead now, and his dad stopped loving him. He doesn't need his dad. He's in the third grade; he can take care of himself. Stiles stops walking, his mouth falling open. In front of him is a huge house, bigger than even Lydia's house, but Stiles can immediately tell no one lives here. The house is burnt. It's falling apart. And Stiles thinks its perfect. He'll live here. By himself in the woods. He stomps up the steps if the porch and lies down, pushing his backpack full of snacks and clothes under his head.

He sniffles again. "I'm sorry." He whispers to no one, tears running down his cheeks and tickling his ears. He wipes his face on his sleeve again.

Stiles misses his mom. If his mom was still alive, his dad would probably still love him. Stiles' eyes fill with tears again, and he knows he's about to begin crying, when there's a loud rustle and a thud somewhere close to the porch. Stiles gasps in surprise and sits up, looking for the source of disturbance.

Squinting, Stiles swivels his head, expecting a rabbit or maybe a deer. Stiles heart begins racing. His eyes widen and his jaw drops. A man stands up, brushing off his hands and knees, and looks straight at Stiles, mimicking his expression of surprise. Stiles' gaze flicks over the mans body, realizing he's naked. "Put some clothes on!" He yells slapping his hands over his eyes. He hears more rustling and he peeks back through his fingers. The man, glaring at Stiles was walking determinately toward him. Stiles lets out a yelp and scrambled backward. "Don't hurt me!" He begged.

"I'm not going to hurt you." The man said, walking straight past Stiles and into the house, pushing the door open and looking around. Stiles sat up and peeked after the man. He listened as the man rummaged around the house. "Hey!" Stiles called. "This is my house, I was here first!" He pushed himself to his feet and stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He couldn't see the man, but he could hear him.

The man poked his head around a corner and glared at Stiles, who looked back stubbornly, with his best mad face on. "I need clothes." He said. Stiles thinks about the clothes stuffed in his backpack, and considers offering the man something to wear.  
"I've got clothes." He said.

\--

Derek tried not to act like he knew this kid. Like this kid wasn't one of the biggest parts of his life. This was, apparently, the day Stiles first met Derek. As a miserable little kid, who would find solace in a naked, randomly appearing and disappearing grown man.

"No offense, kid." He said gruffly, rolling his eyes. But I don't think your clothes are quite going to fit me."

Even so, Derek finds himself squeezing into an old police jacket that had obviously been Stiles' father's and a pair of gym shorts that ride high and tight in Derek's thighs. He had learned to stop caring about how ridiculous he looked in his loaner clothes years ago. So Derek sat on the stairs in the entranceway of the house and bit into an apple Stiles gave him.

He kept eye contact with the kid who stood a few feet away, watching curiously.

"Who are you?" He asked. Derek swallowed his bite of apple, and replied with a curt, "Derek" before taking his next bite.  
"How did you get here?"

"Time Travel"

"How come you didn't have clothes?"

"They get left behind."

"Are you from like the future with flying cars and robots and people who live on mars?"  
"No"

Stiles pouted, clearly put off by Derek's standoffish attitude.

Derek's lips twitched, trying to hold back a smile. He loves little-Stiles. His visits with Stiles before puberty are some of his favorites.

"Are you a criminal?" Stiles asks.

Derek tries not to snicker. "No, not really." 

They stare at each other in silence. 

"My dads a police officer." Stiles says, his chest puffing out slightly.

Derek nods.

"He's actually the sheriff." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah. So if you were a criminal I would know. I know all about bad guys. I'm gunna be the sheriff one day." Derek bites the apple again, just staring at the little boy.   
"Sure, Stiles." Derek rolls his eyes. But then he snaps his attention to Stiles, waiting for him to notice the slip. Notice that he hadn't actually told Derek his name. Luckily, He didn't notice.

"I will!" Stiles protested defensively. 

Derek grunts and tosses his apple core through the open front door and over the edge of the porch. 

"You should go home, kid." Derek says with an attempt at menace. "You don't know what's out here in these woods." 

Stiles' brow scrunched a bit as he looked out at the surrounding forest. 

"Well," Stiles said. "I can protect myself." He swallowed "And you're here, so..." He trailed off looking at the stranger nervously.

"Not for long." Derek muttered and he saw Stiles face drop.

"You're leaving?" He asks.

Derek shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe. I don't choose when I leave. It just happens." 

Stiles stares at Derek, mouth half open, as if waiting for the man to disappear in front of him. 

Derek doesn't. 

What he does do, though, is push himself off of the stairs and walk outside into the summer air. He thinks about going for a run. It helps him clear his mind. But he looks over his shoulder at the child peering up at him through the doorway and falters. 

“Hey,” Derek said, “I’m going to.... come back here. Eventually. I don’t know when. But I’ll come back. And when I do, I’m gunna need clothes. So I need you to do me a favor, okay? Bring a bag of your dad’s old clothes and leave them in this house okay?” 

Stiles nodded at him silently. 

“Do you want to run with me?” Derek asks, eyebrow raised. Stiles nods enthusiastically, and gallops toward Derek like an eager puppy. Derek suppresses a chuckle and hustles down the steps. He turns to the right and begins to jog down the narrow path, listening to the slap of Stiles’ converse on the ground behind him. They only get about one hundred yards from the house before Derek disappears right in front of Stiles, who slides to a stop, and bursts into tears, alone again.


	3. Ch. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek gets an entire afternoon with Stiles, which he's thankful for, but it almost hurts worse than the short visits.

Ch. 3  
Derek: age 36  
Stiles: age 12  
Derek sits on a lawn chair on the porch of the burnt home, waiting. For Stiles, of course. He has no idea what to expect. Looking around at the abandoned home, Derek could tell that, vaguely, Stiles was between ten and thirteen. The forgotten Pokemon cards still littered the floor along with dozens of Reese's wrappers- Stiles had gone through a phase where it was the only thing he'd eat. 

He’d been here for a few hours already. The clock, which was shaped like a cat, and hung on the wall to the left of the front door read 4:35. Stiles would have just been let out of school, and no doubt he would run here all the way from his bus stop. 

Derek, clothed in a gray wife beater and a pair of old jeans, pushed himself out of the chair. He grabbed the lacrosse stick that Stiles had brought for him, and tossed the ball into the air, and swinging it into his net. Stiles insist he learn how to play with him, although Derek had known how to play since he was a boy. 

Stiles would end up playing lacrosse for almost six years, but he’d never end up being very good at it, although Scott turned out to be team co-captain in high school. 

Derek’s ears perked up at the rapid crunching of leaves and heavy breathing that accompanied the hurried arrival of his best friend. 

“Derek!” Stiles yelled, waving a paper around, as if Derek could read it from this far away. He squinted anyway, the words looking like nothing but blurs due to Stiles constant movement. 

“What is it?” he asked, twirling the lacrosse stick. 

Stiles didn’t respond, but stood on his tiptoes and waved the piece of paper in Derek’s face. Derek snatched the paper away from the boy and turned to read it, feeling Stiles vibrating with excitement at his side. 

It was Stiles’ report card. Derek looked at Stiles’ with raised eyebrows. “Impressive.” he said, admiring the paper with a small smile. Stiles had received straight A’s. Being medicated now made him a better student. A much better student. Stiles was a well of mostly untapped genius. His brains lay beneath the sporadic exterior, but they were there alright. 

“Did you show your dad?” Derek asked. He handed back the paper, and hopped down the steps, gesturing for Stiles to grab his own lacrosse stick. 

“Um, no. Not yet.” Stiles said, messing with his backpack strings. “I wanted to tell you first.” He followed Derek away from the house and they began to toss around the ball. Derek listened to Stiles yammer on about the happenings of the seventh grade, and the juciest crimes of late. 

The sun was nearly set when Derek realized how long they’d been out here. “Stiles I think it’s about time we walk you home.” Derek said. If he could avoid it, Derek didn’t like to leave Stiles alone on the Preserve. 

Stiles dropped his head back so he was looking straight up, his mouth hanging open. “Uhhh, yeah I guess so. I’m hungry.” Derek, who had gone to grab Stiles’ bag off the porch, began walking down the path with the bag over his shoulder, waiting for Stiles to follow. 

Stiles was unusually quiet as they walked. “What’s up, bud?” Derek asked nudging stiles shoulder with his elbow. Stiles shrugged, and reached out to grab Derek’s hand. Derek, flinched back at first, but allowed the boy to comfort himself with the touch. He knew, of all people, how much Stiles needed it. 

“I just miss you is all...” Stiles murmured sadly. Derek squeezed Stiles small hand cupped in his larger one. “I miss you too, bud.” Derek said. 

He thought to real time, where Derek had left Stiles floating in their pool, mid-conversation. He furrowed his eyebrows. Thinking that Stiles then probably missed Derek too. Or maybe not. Maybe it had only been a few seconds to Stiles, while Derek had played here for hours. Or maybe Stiles was waiting by the phone for Derek’s call for the third day in a row. Derek didn’t know where Stiles’ found the patience to put up with him and all his time travelling shenanigans. 

They walked for about ten more minutes, and then they came to the end of Stiles’ street. Derek didn’t like to walk Stiles all the way home, for fear a neighbor or the sheriff would catch the wrong idea. He let go of the boy’s hand and faced him. “I’ll see you later, Stiles.” he smiled and ran his hand over the boy’s shaved head. 

Stiles stepped forward and wrapped Derek in a hug. “Why can’t you stay?” he asked, face pressed into Derek’s chest. Derek held Stiles to him, his eyes beginning to burn with tears. “You know why.” Derek said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. He looked up into the light of the streetlamp above them. “Dad isn’t even home, Derek. Just let me cook you dinner, and we can play xbox, please!” he begged, pulling away from Derek to give him those big wet eyes that hardly anyone dared to deny. 

“Stiles, I can’t” he said, more sternly than he meant to. Derek wanted to, that was for sure. He wanted to spend as much time with Stiles as he could, but he was a fully grown man. It really wasn’t okay for him to hang out with a child. “Please, Derek.” Stiles whispered. Derek sighed. “Fine.” he said, and let Stiles yank him down the street and into his house, Derek wary of prying eyes, none of which he saw, luckily. 

\--

Derek sat on the couch with a bowl of easy mac balanced on his lap and his controller in his hands. Even at age twelve, Stiles was better at video games than Derek was. It was quite pathetic. After losing a third round in a row, Derek set the controller down with a sigh and took of his bowl of cooled mac n cheese, which was now mostly one big lump.

“Why do I even try?” he muttered, shoveling the food into his mouth. 

“Because you hope maybe one day you’ll win, duh.” Stiles said with mouth full. 

“Chew with your mouth closed.” Derek responded, pointing his fork at Stiles with an attempt at authority. Stiles stuck out his tongue, but shut his mouth nonetheless. 

Derek watched with amusement at Stiles demolished the bowl without another word. Kid could eat. “I’m glad you came to hang out with me.” Stiles said, standing up to return his bowl to the kitchen. “Me too.” Derek said, handing Stiles his bowl as he passed. 

Derek saw a flash of light through the blinds; headlights. “Shit.” Derek said under his breath. He heard the sound of the car door. Derek jumped off the couch and ran to Stiles. Without thinking, he kissed him on the head and bolted for the back door. “What-” Stiles began, but Derek was almost already gone. Stiles heard the click of the front door unlocking, and only just had time to register Derek leaving before his father walked into the kitchen. 

“Hey there, son.” he said with a tired smile. 

“Hi, dad.” Stiles smiled nervously. The sheriff raised a suspicious eyebrow, and looked at the two bowls Stiles had just placed in the sink, along with a glance over to the living room to see the dual screen on the TV. He leaned against the doorframe. “Where’d he go?” the sheriff asked calmly. 

Stiles swallowed nervously, his face heating up. “Who?” he responded. The sheriff rolled his eyes. “Scott, Stiles, your partner in crime, who else? You know he isn’t supposed to be here while I’m at work.” Stiles sighed in relief. 

“Oh, Scott, right, he went home. Melissa called him. I was just cleaning up.” Stiles smiled innocently and gestured to the sink. 

“Uh huh...” the sheriff started, and pushed himself off the wall. “Well, is there any more mac and cheese left or did you coyotes eat it all?” he asked looking to the pot on the stove. Stiles looked past the sheriff out the window and saw Derek’s silhouette, which waved at him before disappearing. Stiles attempted to wave back, but the shadow was gone. He sighed. At least he had gotten to say goodbye this time, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha two updates in one day woohoo


	4. Ch. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek moved up to the counter and held out a ten dollar bill to the teen, while he gazed at the menu hanging behind him. “I guess I’ll have a... vanilla iced coffee. Please.” he said and looked down at the boy who was supposed to be taking his order, but instead, was staring at Derek, open mouthed.

Derek: age 24  
Stiles: age 16

Derek walked into the Starbuck’s-wannabe coffee shop and rubbed his hands over his stubbly face. I need to shave. He thought as he walked to stand behind the blonde in line.

Derek moved up to the counter and held out a ten dollar bill to the teen, while he gazed at the menu hanging behind him. “I guess I’ll have a... vanilla iced coffee. Please.” he said and looked down at the boy who was supposed to be taking his order, but instead, was staring at Derek, open mouthed.

Derek scrunched his eyebrows. “Can I help you?” he asked. The boy faltered, like he was trying to say something, but couldn’t. A brunette who also worked there poked the boy’s shoulder. “Stiles,” she said. “Take his order.” and poked him again. “Derek.” the boy finally said, and let out a high-pitched cackle. “Derek!” he covered his mouth with one hand.

“Um, yeah? How do you...” Derek was confused. This boy clearly knew him, but he had never met the kid. Yet, he thought. His future self might have seen this boy. Oh, god, what do I do? Derek began to panic. He swallowed.

“I... you! Finally!”

Finally?

“Oh, my god! I have to- We have to-” his choppy sentences gave way to another cackle.

The kid took his hat off and handed it to the brunette. “Allison, I have to take my break, I’ll be back.” he ran through a door that obviously led to the back of the shop, and burst out another down a hallway. “Stiles! You just got here!” the girl called after him.” Derek looked at Allison, who looked back at him, and shrugged.

The boy literally ran up to him, and grabbed Derek in a hug. Derek pushed the boy off. “What the hell?” he protested. He, Stiles, had on a shit-eating grin that split his face in two. “You’re here!” Stiles said, which clarified absolutely nothing. Stiles looked down at the bill in Derek’s fist. “Oh, shit.” he said. “I’ll make that for you. It’s on me.” he turned to the brunette, and played Derek’s order back to her. She rolled her eyes and began to make it.

“No, I don’t want your coffee.” Derek nearly growled. He was truly confused, and he didn’t enjoy being in situations where he didn’t have the upper hand. “Who are you?” he asked Stiles gruffly. Stiles just beamed at him. “I’m Stiles.” he said as if that would clear things up. Derek rolled his eyes. “Stiles Stilinski. Sixteen years old. Real time.” At that, Derek’s head snapped to look at Stiles. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Real Time’ was something that Derek had always said. So this kid did know him. Well, future him. Derek’s chest tightened, and he felt his adrenaline shoot up. “I have to go.” he said. He set the ten dollar bill on the counter just as Allison was about to hand him his coffee and he stormed out the door.

“Wait!” Stiles called after him, following him out to the parking lot. “Derek! Call me!” Derek looked over his shoulder with a grimace as he climbed into his car and sped away from the shop.

He didn’t stop driving until he was almost to his home- or what was left of it- and as he approached, he felt sick. So he kept driving, away from Beacon Hills.

He kept driving for almost two hours before pulling over on the side of the two lane highway. He had a feeling, what with the stress, and the panic, and the unfamiliarity of someone he didn’t know that knew him, that maybe, just maybe he’d-

disappear.

\--

 

Stiles trudged back into the shop and took his hat from where Allison had dropped it on the floor. He put it on and spent the rest of his shift in a sulky mood, and refused to answer any of Allison’s questions about the stranger Stiles freaked over.

After work, Stiles shot his dad a text, telling him he’d have to grab himself something for dinner because Stiles wasn’t going to be home until later. The Sheriff was pretty lenient about Stiles’ outings; if Stiles got into trouble he’d be pretty much the first to hear about it, so he didn’t bother to ask what Stiles was doing. He usually assumed it had something to do with Scott.

Stiles parked his jeep behind the old house and sat himself on the porch with his homework. Perhaps Derek would visit today, and Stiles would get to see him twice.

\--

Derek wasn’t quite ready to head back East, to his apartment in New York, quite yet. The Stiles boy had riled him up enough to get curious. Two days after the initial encounter, Derek found himself back at the coffee shop. He walked in, cautiously, but Stiles wasn’t there. The brunette, Allison, from the other day was, though. She leaned over the counter, talking flirtatiously with some boy in a hoodie. Derek approached the counter and cleared his throat. Allison stood up and walked over to Derek with a smile on her face. “Well if it isn’t Mister Mysterious.” she bit her lip and looked around. “Stiles isn’t here.”

The boy Allison had been talking to stood up and walked over to Derek. “Oh, shit!” the boy said, and stared at Derek like there was something on his face. “You look the same!” His jaw dropped as he inspected the confused Derek.

“You’ve met this guy, Scott?” Allison asked, incredulously.

“Yeah, you’ve met me?” Derek repeated. Scott shook his head slowly.

“Well, like, six years ago, but yeah! Stiles took me into the middle of the woods and you showed up nake-” Derek clapped his hand over the boy’s mouth lightning fast. He leaned down and muttered in his ear, “You- nobody- is supposed to know about that.” He released the boy, and stepped back. Scott and Allison shared the same surprised look.

Derek rolled his eyes, and grabbed Scott by the arm. “Come on, I have questions that need to be answered. Where. Is. Stiles.” he accentuated. He let go of Scott’s arm as the boy took his phone out of his pocket and hit two buttons before pressing it to his ear and staring at Derek warily. “You’re a lot meaner than I remember..” Scott muttered as the phone rang.

“Stiles!” Scott practically yelled as soon as Stiles picked up.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Stiles asked on the other end.

“That dude’s here! At the Shop. Derek.”

Derek couldn’t hear what was said next because of the volume, and because he wasn’t sure what came out of Stiles’ mouth was actually English.

“Uh,” Scott looked at Derek. “He says he’ll be here in five?” It was half a question, and Scott shoved the phone back into his pocket, Stiles having hung up. Then the three of them stood there awkwardly, staring at one another. The bell on the door tinkled, and in unison they looked over. It wasn’t Stiles. Allison helped the middle-aged woman, and just as she was leaving, Stiles burst through the door, nearly knocking the tray of coffees out of the woman’s hands. He apologized profusely while trying to help her out the door, and then he turned, and stared, taking deep breaths like he had run the whole way here.

“Hey.” he waved awkwardly, then sauntered over to the trio. Stiles, Scott, and Derek, all stood in a sort of triangle while Allison leaned her elbows on the counter, her fingers laced under her chin.

Derek cleared his throat. “We need to talk.” he said. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, and readjusted his stance. He wasn’t really sure how to start.

“Maybe... without these two?” he nodded toward Scott and Allison, then looked at Stiles, eyebrows raised. Stiles nodded and walked toward the corner of the shop where two plushy chairs were nestled with a table between them. Stiles plopped down into one, and ran his hands along the arms of the chair, his tongue running along his lower lip.

Derek sat down slowly across from Stiles. They stared at each other for a few seconds. Stiles, of course, was used to these periods of silence where Derek would just look him over and mentally calculate. He did this a lot over the years.

Finally, Derek said. “When did you first meet me?”

Stiles sat up straighter, which was hard in the soft chair, and folded his hands in his lap. “Uh, I was eight. It was September. I think you were about... forty?”

Derek frowned. This kid had known Derek for half his life, and Derek hardly knew his name. Stiles kept talking.

“I’ve seen you dozens of times over the years, at several different ages.” He snorted. “I’ve been waiting to meet you in Real Time. You told me it was soon, but I haven't seen you since then, and then you finally...” he sat back and smiled. “Popped up.” That almost brought a smile to Derek’s face. Cause isn’t that what Derek did best? Pop up?

“Wow, so uh... wow.” he rubbed his palms along the edge of his jaw. “So...I don’t tell you anything do I? About the future?”

Stiles snorts and rolls his eyes. “No. Never. I beg you all the time, though. You always tell me that I’ll find out eventually.”

Then Derek does smile. He’s happy to find out that all the way, until he’s forty, at least, he has someone to talk to. Someone to share with. It gives him this feeling in his stomach that maybe feels like... hope. Hope that the future will be better than the past.

Even if he’s spending it with... this spastic, lanky, little shit.

Derek watched as Stiles fidgeted. He seemed to never stop moving. Derek guessed that he was nervous. Derek himself was actually kind of nervous. He ran his palms up and down the legs of his jeans before standing up. Stiles stood up too, a look of panic momentarily crossing his face.

"Stiles, do you... do you want to have lunch with me? So we can talk." Derek's heart beat hard in his chest as he awaited Stiles' reply. 

"Yeah! Yes, yeah, I do. Lunch. We can do lunch. Me and you.... in public... with other people around...." Derek tilted his head slightly. Stiles' seemed to be holding back a smile as he rocked back and forth on his feet. 

"Okay." Derek said. "Are you busy right now?" 

"Now? No! No. We can go now." Stiles scratched his head and looked at his watch. 

Derek frowned. "We could do tomorrow if it's more convenient..." Derek started, but Stiles shook his head and waved Derek off. "No, now is fine. I just have to be back home by four thirty." Stiles said looking back at his watch. 

That gave them a little more than three hours. Derek shrugged and looked out the window of the shop. "I'll drive."

**Author's Note:**

> kthanksbye
> 
> you can follow me on tumblr at solive-4-themoment.tumblr.com


End file.
